


On Stranger Tides (The Pirate King Remix)

by sleepylotus



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5964586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylotus/pseuds/sleepylotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you were as disappointed as me by the glaring lack of our dear Pirate King in POTC 4, this fic might be for you. This is my REMIX of On Stranger Tides, with Elizabeth Swann inserted. Here there be Sparrabeth. Ye’ve been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Mad World

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Introduction- I watched On Stranger Tides for the second time *ever* a few days ago. It didn’t *hurt* in a visceral gut-clenching way like it did the first time, Sparrabether that I am, but you know, it really wasn’t that good either. Johnny was enchanting, as ever, but the rest still fell rather flat. Naturally my imagination began to wander towards inserting Elizabeth into the plot, and here we are. I make no promises nor have any idea where we’re going, except that I hope it will be fun. :)
> 
> A/N II: I suppose the events leading up to this shall be canon, except for that icky point of Will and Elizabeth’s marriage, and Will becoming the captain of the Flying Dutchman. In this little corner of the fanfic universe that belongs to me, the whelp died in the battle, and someone else stabbed the heart. Haven’t decided who yet…

 

Man’s capacity for blood lust never ceased to amaze Elizabeth. Here, in supposedly civilized London Town, even the mild mannered bakers and cobblers screamed for the entertainment of a hanging in the Old Bailey.

She supposed that diversion for the lower classes was far and few between.

And yet it was not only the peasants who howled for justice at the end of a noose. Somber aristocrats and merchants who had lost ships and goods and copious amounts of gold to the infamous pirate’s shenanigans intended to have their pound of flesh.

Perhaps it seemed a fool’s errand, that Elizabeth Swann intended to stop it with a weapon so seemingly inconsequential as _words_.

Her spine stiffened at the banging of a gavel, a call to order that barely quelled the echoed shouts of the unwashed crowd. There were somber words that barely registered in her brain, for the ringing that set in her ears. _Blah blah blah this pirate Jack Sparrow accused of piracy…_

What rubbish.

Who in their right mind could mistake dear Joshamee Gibbs for _the_ Jack Sparrow, she couldn’t know.

When the bailiff called her name, “The defense calls Lady Elizabeth Swann to the stand!” she rose on shaky legs, daintily making her way to the bench on ridiculous heels, trussed like a Christmas goose in her corset and yards and yards of silk skirts. God, how she missed the days of going about in britches, long legs free to swing in a confident stride, sword at her hip, tricorn at a jaunty angle upon her head. She’d felt so _powerful_ then, living as a man in a man’s world.

Now, she was just… _this._

A pretty doll again, taken seriously by no one.

At least now she would be heard, just for a little while.

The truth was that there would not have been a defense for Joshamee Gibbs had Elizabeth not paid for it. Something she was all too happy to do for her old comrade in arms. She was still the Pirate King, after all, and she would do for hers what she could, when she could.

People who knew nothing of her but her name booed, incensed that this chit of a girl would take the stand in the defense of such an obvious scallywag. “Throw ‘er out!” they chanted. “Get on wit it an’ hang him!”

Again the judge banged his gavel, and she was sworn in. To her surprise the judge questioned her directly. “You have something to say in the defense of this man?”

His voice evoked something strange within her, an unbidden tingle at the base of her spine. Ignoring it, Elizabeth answered, “I will begin with the fact that this is not the pirate _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. His name is Joshamee Gibbs.”

“And how would you know such a thing, _Lady Swann_?”

The last was said with the slightest note of mockery. Annoyed, she turned to regard the judge, her chin jutting defiantly.

As her eyes met his, dark eyes rimmed in kohl that burned as twin bonfires, sparking with mischief, her retort died on her lips. Her mouth fell open in a moment of complete shock.

Her heart stopped, and then quickly attempted to punch through her chest again.

_Jack._

She would know him anywhere. This ridiculous wig and robe couldn’t disguise the pirate from her eyes. He smiled behind his kerchief, a flash of telling gold. _Play along, luv._ She could hear his words in her mind, even if he dared not speak them.

Quickly she straightened, hoping her misstep was not so obvious as it felt.

“As you may know, my father was Governor of Jamaica for a time. I had occasion to meet Jack Sparrow.”

“And how would a lady like you have such _occasion_?”

It was obscene what this rascal could imply with the utterance of a single word. One word! _Occasion indeed,_ she thought, suddenly feeling rather flushed under the many layers of her dress. _Damn this man._ Just when she’d finally managed to stop filling every second of every day with a thought of Jack Sparrow, here he was again.

“The Caribbean is a wild place, your honor. Such things are commonplace, no matter your station.”

“And what’s he like? This _Jack Sparrow._ ”

Elizabeth pressed her lips, suppressing a smile for his antics. His vanity was _unbelievable_. “He’s a perfect scoundrel,” she informed the courtroom, winning a narrowing of dark eyes. “But immensely clever. And, he saved my life once.”

Dark brows furrowed under the curls of his periwig.

“Only _once_?”

He sounded genuinely offended.

She shot Jack a warning glance, caramel eyes gone wide. A surprising hush had fallen over the crowd, interest in her answer keen. Something seemed _off_ about the repartee between the judge and this witness, though no one could quite yet place their finger upon it. They seemed old friends to be resuming an old conversation, rather than strangers delivering a testimony in a court of law.

“Once that I can recall,” she answered quickly. “At any rate, I would like you to know that this man, Joshamee Gibbs, was a sailor of the first rate in His Majesty’s navy. I met him on the crossing to Jamaica and can testify to his character. If he has been involved in piracy of any sort I am certain he was forced.”

It was Jack’s turn to stifle a grin behind that absurd handkerchief.

There was more rabble, banging of the gavel, calls for order. It all passed as a blur, and Sparrow turned Gibbs was proclaimed not guilty, to the fury of the blood-thirsty crowd. In the blink of an eye the judge vacated the bench, disappearing in a whirl of robes and flash of grey wig.

Heart pounding with excitement, Elizabeth elbowed through the crowd, making her way towards where she suspected the Judges’ Chambers must be. She heard an odd sound behind a cracked door. Pushing it open, hoping to find Jack, instead she beheld a paunchy old man bound and gagged, a wig and black robe draped haphazardly upon him.

The man made muffled overtures for her to untie him, but something out the corner of her eye distracted her. She turned to catch a flash of worn gray coat and dark ropey hair disappearing around the corner. “Jack!” she called, lifting her voluminous skirts in an attempt to run after him.

All for naught.

By the time she rounded the corner he was gone.

Elizabeth’s heart fell to her feet, a hope she’d not allowed herself to feel in _years_ risen and dashed in the matter of less than an hour. She fought the urge to sit down and weep, blinking back a very annoying welling of tears.

There was a point in which all she did was cry for the men who had left her behind, upon their ships, and for what lay beyond. Three years later, she had vowed to no longer waste her energy upon such tiresome things as tears and yearnings for that which could never be.

It seemed her heart had quickly forgotten that earnest vow, the way Jack made her forget all vows, all reason, everything except for the desire to be within the shining circle that was his mad world.

 


	2. Vestiges of a Pirate King

# Chapter 2- Vestiges of a Pirate King

 

Elizabeth stared at herself in her mirror, eyes wide, her soul torn.

She determined that she hardly recognized herself anymore.

Touching her cheek, she grimaced. It was pale as porcelain, deprived of the kiss of the sun.

Her once proud lion’s man of golden hair had gone dark, for the same reason. Only the ends remained a shining blonde she could not bear to trim away.

Perhaps society considered these perfectly desirable traits for a lady, but she viewed them with disdain. She regarded herself with loathing, because she could not get up the courage to fish out the man’s costume and sword she kept in a false bottom of a trunk in the corner of her room, and go down to the wharf where she would find gossip of Jack, and perhaps even a fact or two.

She, the once proud Pirate King, a girl who had united an armada of pirates in a fierce call to battle, reduced to a coward afraid to leave her room at night. Afraid to move from this cushy tufted stood before her vanity, when _he_ was out there.

Jack was in London.

Even if he’d disappeared from the Old Bailey like a wisp of smoke, she _knew_ he’d been there. She _knew_ he hadn’t been a figment of her hopeful imagination.

Already, news of his apprehension and daring escape had spread all over the city. Her uncle had sniffed about it over dinner, drawling that it would only be a matter of time before the _actual_ Jack Sparrow was hanged. To her shame, Elizabeth had not risen to the bait, as she may have upon the first months of her arrival. Instead she cast her eyes down upon her fish soup, and said nothing.

Elizabeth had returned to England shortly after the conclusion of the battle with Davy Jones and Lord Becket. Port Royal held nothing for her but ghosts. An empty house where she and her father had lived. The memory of a blacksmith who had loved her dearly, now dead. A legendary pirate who she had loved, and killed, then resurrected, who had gladly sailed far away from her.

She had hoped her return to London would open a new chapter of her life, yet the moment she stepped from the gangway to the dock she feared she’d made a terrible mistake leaving the Caribbean.

After her father’s murder, her uncle Lord Timothy Swann had inherited Weatherby’s title and wealth. Elizabeth, as a mere woman, could not see a cent of it until she married. She received a small stipend which she stashed away, the near entirety of which she had used for Gibbs’ counsel. Until the event of her surrender to a man in holy matrimony, she remained under her only remaining relative’s roof, a pirate lord pretending to be a lady.

As the years passed Elizabeth feared the pretense lessened more and more, her edges softening with time, her memories clouding. The last vestige of her former glory she clung to was weekly fencing lessons with a master of the art. For one hour a week she allowed herself to remember vividly the excitement of crossing steel with an opponent, and more often than not, victory.

It was a quirk that her aunt tolerated with barely concealed disapproval. Mary Swann could not wait to see her strange niece off into the stewardship of another, preferably a wealthy noble with influence in the House of Lords.

Elizabeth attempted to pull a silver-backed brush through her hair, and found her hands shaking as she did so.

Disgusted, she threw down the brush, pacing her room as a tiger in a cage.

What _was_ she so afraid of?

That she would find Jack?

Or that she wouldn’t?

Either prospect seemed equal in their potential for disappointment.

Three years ago he’d put her off the Pearl at Port Royal with a restrained farewell, her attempt to embrace him cut short by a wave of bejeweled fingers and a declaration of _Once was enough._

That rejection cut her more deeply than Jack could ever know. Wounded, she’d lifted her chin, affecting a smile that did not reach her eyes. With a nod she’d turned on her heel and walked out of his life, supposedly forever.

He’d been so _cold_ since his rescue from the Locker, a shade of the man he’d once been.

Yet earlier that day she’d looked into his eyes and beheld that familiar spark once again. Happy mischief and a Puckish smile. He’d _teased_ her in front of a crowd of hundreds, the way he once had.

Perhaps his soul had simply needed time to thaw.

Perhaps he didn’t hate her so much after all.

_Perhaps he hadn’t given her a single thought since seeing her off._

One thing was certain. If she continued to play the coward, hiding in this large, dark if not luxurious house, she would never know.

Her courage bolstered, she flew to her trunk, desperate to get herself under way before she could talk herself out of it again.

 


	3. The Captain's Daughter

# Chapter 3: The Captain’s Daughter

As usual, the tavern _The Captain’s Daughter_ was raucous with evening debauchery. It was a haven for those who made a living relieving the rich of their riches, either by land or by sea. If there was a place in London where she would hear news of Jack, this was it.

There was music and drinking and laughter, a din that fell upon Elizabeth with the strange sense of returning home. Though she recognized no familiar faces, she felt she _knew_ these men and women. She considered them her own, even if perhaps the same feeling would not be reciprocated in kind.

She ordered a tankard and hunkered down in a dark corner, watching the goings by with her tricorn hat pulled low over her eyes. Like a stone she sat, hoping for a glimpse of long dreds kissed golden by the sun, or a flash of kohl-darkened eyes.

No such luck.

A man played the mandola, singing a sailor’s tune of a lass who loved a sailor. It was usually a melancholy shanty of longing, a woman left ashore by her sea-faring lover, but the man somehow managed to transform it into a fast and joyful tune.

Still, the words struck Elizabeth as flung knives, all too close to home.

After a while a sailor emerged from the back room with a happy shout of, “Lads, I’m sailin’ with Sparrow! Who’ll buy a sailor a drink?”

Elizabeth’s spine straightened like a rod, as though she’d been struck by a lightning bolt.

_Jack was here?_

Her long legs carried her of their own accord, making her way through weaving drunkards and stepping over a sailor sprawled passed out on the dirty floor. No one made to stop her progress, the man at the door assuming she too wished an audience with the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow. Trembling with excitement, she pushed at the portal, revealing a dimly lit store room. A barbecue pit smoldered in the center of the room, lending a hellish glow to the massive barrels of wine and hogsheads of rum.

A silhouette appeared on the far side of the room, hands on hips.

For a moment she could not breathe, so enchanted was she by the sight of that jaunty tricorn and mass of wild dark hair.

Yet as she looked closer her elation quickly passed, her heart plummeting like a stone.

She realized it was but a vague facsimile of that rogue she knew so well. A tall figure in the appropriate garb, yet still, too short, too slender.

 _Not_ Jack in the least.

Immediately Elizabeth’s heart fell with disappointment.

“What’s your name, sailor?” asked the shadow gruffly. The inquiry pulled a smile from Elizabeth’s lips, but not a nice one.

“I might ask you the same,” she replied coolly, the sound of her sword freeing from its scabbard ringing clear as a threat through the room. “For it certainly is not _Jack Sparrow._ ”

For a moment the dark figure froze, clearly taken aback.

Had this fool really met with sailors all night, taking names for the roster, and not a one the wiser?

Elizabeth advanced, her sword pointed towards this imposter.

Quickly, the shade drew its own sword, backpedaling around the fire pit.

“I asked you a question.” Gone was her trepidation, Elizabeth so incensed that someone would attempt to copy Jack, and _so badly._

“I _am_ Jack Sparrow,” insisted the shade. “Who the bloody hell are you?”

Cutting off the imposter’s retreat, Elizabeth lowered herself into an opening stance, her honey-colored eyes sparking in the firelight. “Me? I’m the Pirate King.”

“Like hell.”

“You should know. You elected me, _Jack_.”

For a moment Elizabeth beheld the imposter’s expression: panic.

Elizabeth toyed with the shadow like a cat with a mouse, cutting off his every attempt at making for the door. There was something _odd_ about his voice.

Then Elizabeth realized that _he_ was actually most likely a _she._

What the devil was going on?

“Remove your hat.”

“Bugger off!” Swords clanged, and with teeth bared in a snarl Elizabeth happily engaged. The familiar fire of battle surged in her blood, a happy madness she embraced all too readily. Her opponent was not bad, though she lacked the grace of a traditionally tutored fencer. She was tricky though, and attempted to trip Elizabeth several times with ropes and small barrels, and even tried to burn Elizabeth with a poker from the fire, in a way that very much reminded Elizabeth of Jack.

Had Elizabeth not been so familiar with that pirate’s methods it may have worked.

With a well-aimed swipe Elizabeth knocked the tricorn from her opponent’s head, the leather hat skewered upon her blade then flung across the room. It revealed a pretty face, fine boned, a woman probably of Latin heritage. The lower half was obscured by an absurd false beard.

“Your costume is _ridiculous,_ ” Elizabeth taunted with venom. “How has anyone actually fallen for this?”

“ _Everyone_ fell for it until now,” her opponent insisted haughtily, her voice now heavy with a Spanish accent.

“Show me your face.”

“ _Vete al diablo,”_ the fake Jack hotly replied.

“You can take it off, or I will cut it off. Choice is yours.” Elizabeth found she was so angry for having been cheated of the true Jack that she almost meant it, rejoicing in the idea of spilling a little blood in the name of vengeance.

The duel raged on.

Both women were so caught up in the battle, enthusiastically exchanging insults and blows, that neither noticed a newcomer to the storeroom: a man who watched amusedly with eyes lined dark with kohl.


	4. In Good Company

 

There was an upheaval in the balance of power, the imposter attempting a twisting maneuver meant to disarm Elizabeth. But the Pirate King foresaw the trick, and instead managed to trip her opponent, the woman landing hard on her back.

With her sword at the infuriating woman’s throat, Elizabeth demanded, “Who _are_ you?”

A voice called from the shadows behind the pit, “Name’s Anjelica, luv.”

Elizabeth froze, her blood simultaneously run hot and cold at the sound of _that_ voice. That voice that had the power to disarm her with nary a word. Excitedly Elizabeth turned towards the sound, unable to suppress a joyful smile. “Jack!” she breathed, her heart skipping as she received a gold-glinting smile for the trouble. Eyebrows raised for the spectacle before him, Jack strode towards the women locked in armistice.

Anjelica quickly attempted to take advantage of her captor’s distraction, swiping for the Pirate King with her sword. The blow was deftly blocked by the blade of Jack’s own cutlass.

“Now now, dearie. That’s not nice.”

Anjelica said something rapid in Spanish that Elizabeth was fairly certain involved cursing Jack’s name.

“That’s not nice either,” admonished Jack, affecting a wounded expression. “Especially considering I fairly recall that was _your_ idea.”

Elizabeth looked between Jack and this woman, who regarded each other with a fair mixture of venom and…what? Nostalgia? Regret? As usual, she hungered to know everything, and assumed Jack would reveal as little as possible.

The game was up, and so Anjelica finally acquiesced to remove her false beard.

Jack went on to question her, to which the female pirate lent half-hearted replies. Quickly she changed her tactics, attempting to play upon Jack’s tender side, soliciting his sympathy for being a woman in the world of pirates. _You were the only pirate I thought I could pass for,_ she whined, and Elizabeth fairly scoffed as Jack actually seemed to soften at this ridiculous plea.

Though Elizabeth kept one eye upon this Anjelica, disinterested in receiving a gully to the gut from the treacherous snake, most of her attention drifted to Jack at her side. Just standing near him electrified her, left her hyper aware of his presence like straying too close to the flame of a bonfire.

He had not aged a day, it seemed, the same ridiculously fine features masked by a ruffian’s beard and fierce makeup. Perhaps he really _had_ found the fountain of youth, she marveled, an unbidden elation overtaking her at the thought that Jack could live forever.

Jack looked to Elizabeth out the corner of his eye, curious to find a surprisingly soft little smile upon her lips, for a woman who had been so intent on fileting her opponent just moments ago. He’d been captivated by the sight of her leonine grace while she fought, fascinated by her deadly elegance with a sword. Part of her prowess had come from training with the whelp, there was no doubt of that, but he dared think a little of her cleverness also came from spending time with him.

He was not as surprised as he should have been to find her here at the Captain’s Daughter, and the sight of her did not impact him quite so forcefully as it had in the Old Bailey, when her unexpected appearance had hit him like a swift kick in the gut.

Even after all these years, she was still so beautiful it _hurt._

The treasure who forever remained out of his reach.

His perfect foil, his favorite opponent.

His killer, his savior.

The only women he ever truly loved, and the only woman it seemed he couldn’t have.

Pride saw to that, foiling the heart at every turn.

He looked back and forth between the two pirate women before him. How different they were, like the yin and the yang. How ironic, that he knew beneath Anjelica’s Latin fire lay a heart cold as ice, and Elizabeth’s cool English façade concealed a rumbling volcano deep inside, just waiting to erupt.

Their banter went on, during which Jack managed to learn very little, except that Anjelica was up to something.

Suddenly the man named Scrum with the mandola burst through the door, shutting it behind him. “Captain, we’ve got company!” he alerted, and began stacking crates before the door.

For naught, and the room soon exploded into another battle, red coats everywhere. Jack and Elizabeth fought back to back, and the Pirate King rejoiced in feeling his lean body pressed to hers in this familiar deadly dance. He blocked a sword meant for her ribs as she sent a soldier’s musket shot wild with a swipe of her cutlass.

Her smile was like a baring of teeth; in all the moments in which she felt most alive, Jack was there with her.

Anjelica and Scrum managed to scramble away over the rafters like a pair of crafty rats. Jack watched them go with narrowed eyes, before turning his attention back to the soldiers, hacking the plug off one of the massive wine barrels as a distraction.

He soon realized that this was a losing battle; without an escape it would end in their deaths or capture…which would most likely lead to an unpleasant hanging. With a swift kick upon a lever the loading hatch opened beneath them, sending the pair down into the murky River Thames.

 


	5. A Lifetime Ago

Bullets riddled the water around them, but the pair lost no time in swimming away through the dark waters. When at last they dared make a sound Elizabeth let out a hiss. “I hate this place,” she spat, coughing up water. “The water is always so bloody cold.”

They found a set of stone stairs, and Jack lent her a hand in climbing up upon them.

“Then why stay?” he dared ask.

Elizabeth let out a long sigh, cautious of such a question. “Nowhere else to go,” she finally answered neutrally, a sea of emotions roiling beneath such seemingly mundane words.

Jack chewed upon his lip, unable to overlook the blatant sadness in her voice.

He knew she’d wanted to stay aboard the Pearl, but at the time he couldn’t have abided it. His emotions concerning Lizzy had run the full spectrum between hate and love and everything in between in those days. Everything had been so _raw_ after his return from the locker. _Too damn vivid._ He hadn’t been able to think straight with her around, always torn between throttling her and kissing her silly for what she’d done.

Now, years later, the sharp edges of that memory had worn down, dulled by the knowledge that even if Lizzy had been the one to shackle him to the mast, it had been _his_ debt to pay. She’d tricked the trickster, and he’d had it coming.

Maybe the anger had worn away, time and tide, but it seemed one thing still remained.

 _Longing_.

“I couldn’t help but notice the bailiff introduced ye as Lady Swann. Would have thought ye’d be married off to a fine lord by now, pilin’ up a brood o’ wailin’ bairns,” Jack fished, regarding Elizabeth out the corner of his eye while pouring water out of his boot.

A bitter little laugh escaped Elizabeth. “I’ve had offers, though the type of man interested in me here is either a fortune hunter or up to his eyebrows in gambling debts. I have quite a reputation now in London society, if you can imagine.” Even after Becket’s actions had been declared rogue, outside of the King’s orders, and her father’s death at his hands murder, there were still whispers behind Elizabeth’s back. _Pirate’s harlot,_ the least of them.

If only they knew the half of it.

Jack raised an eyebrow, that mischievous smirk curling finely formed lips. “You? Surely not.”

Elizabeth sighed, wringing water out of her hair. “They’re all parading peacocks anyway. Soft-handed lilies, every one. How could I accept a spouse like that, after I’ve known the taste of a real man? Even if it was a lifetime ago.”

Both of Jack’s eyebrows jetted up at hearing _that,_ and that treacherous organ, that most bothersome muscle, his heart, proceeded to _thump thump_ rather exaggeratedly.

Whether she meant him or the whelp, Jack was afraid to ask. The melancholy in her words tied his insides in knots.

She crossed her arms, shivering.

“Lizzy…” Tentatively he held out an arm, half expecting to receive a slap for his trouble. Yet to his surprise, Elizabeth scooted closer to him, allowing the comforting embrace about her narrow shoulders. Jack opened his coat to her, and his body heat seared her even through the damp cold.

“Jack,” she sighed in kind, resting her head upon his shoulder, feeling a little drunk on the magic of this unlikely reunion, and all too comfortable basking in his warmth. “Tell me something grand. A story of turquoise waters and a place where the sun always shines.” She fingered one of his dreds, decidedly blonder than last she saw him. “Is it true? Did you find the Agua de Vida?”

Jack smiled down upon her, gold teeth flashing. “What do you think, luv?”

Suddenly feeling rather bold, she reached up to trace the line of his jaw, frowning at the sore that never seemed to heal. She wondered if it hurt. “You haven’t changed a bit, Captain.”

“Well luv, I thank ye kindly for that.”

“Then the answer’s no?”

“Nay, I never found it,” he admitted reluctantly. “But it would seem there are several interested parties afoot. King George being not the least of them.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Then you’re still going after it?”

“Aye, if I can find a ship.”

Alarm crossed Elizabeth’s expression. “What of the Pearl?” she whispered, dreading the answer.

A long silence ensued, before Jack finally mustered past the lump in his throat, “Barbossa took her again. And, lost her, so it seems.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, as though she’d been informed of the death of a close friend. “Oh Jack. I’m so sorry.” She clasped his hand in hers, and he gripped her just this side of too hard, for just this side of too long.

“S’alright, luv. There are plenty of ships in the sea.” But she could tell he didn’t really mean it.

They sat there upon the stone embankment for a long time, the river rushing past beneath their boots. The night was chilly, but the silence companionable. Despite everything she wanted to know, Elizabeth was content to share a moment of peace with Jack. It seemed so surreal that he could really be here in London, much less that she was in his arms.

“Why did you come, Jack?” she finally dared ask.

The pirate groaned a little, sorting through all the truths, and the ones he could bear for her to hear.

The first truth was that his compass led him here. As usual, the deuced thing continued to go in circles, sometimes towards Agua de Vida, sometimes towards the Pearl wherever she may be, and sometimes? It pointed North by North East, to a cold little island where he knew a certain Pirate King now resided.

The second truth was that he was just as happy to arrive in time to rescue Gibbs, even if the scamp had stolen his map.

“Someone had to rescue that old tar,” he evaded. “Didn’t know ye could be counted upon for the task, _Your Highness_.”

“I wasn’t sure my testimony would be considered credible. Luckily I had a rapport with the judge,” she teased.

“Aye, and received the opportunity to defame Jack Sparrow’s name in the process.” In a high falsetto he teased, “He only saved me _once,_ your honor.” Fixing her with a gimlet stare, he huffed. “What bloody rubbish!”

Elizabeth laughed quietly for his indignation, tilting her face towards his. “If I were to detail every way you’ve saved me in our acquaintance, Captain Sparrow, the court would have thrown us both out.”

Jack’s clever fingers stroked the line of Elizabeth’s jaw, trailing down her throat, winning a shudder from the usually unflappable Pirate King. “Hmm. So what now, Lizzy darlin’?” Jack asked, his voice low. “We are wet as rats and I do not fancy freezing here in an alley in London. Shall we find us a room and get out of these sopping clothes?”

Elizabeth’s breath hitched at the thought, her eyes fixed upon his.

 _A warm bath with Jack_. Just the mere thought of piping hot water and his slick mahogany skin against hers unleashed a frisson of pleasure to unleash down her spine.

 _Christ,_ but her imagination had become a powerful thing these lonely days.

Several ticks too late to disguise her interest in the proposition, she instead countered, “Who was that woman? Anjelica? You seem to have a past.”

Jack made a face as though he’d tasted something nasty. “Old flame, luv. Positively ancient history. _Long_ before your time.”

Elizabeth wondered if Jack was including her in the list of his _flames,_ or simply meant the time of their first acquaintance.

“You loved her.”

The pirate beside her made a strangled sound deep in his throat. “I wouldn’t go that far…”

“What happened?”

“We were young, and mixed about as well as a tinder box and a keg o’ powder.” Despite the negative nature of the admission, Elizabeth detected a certain tenderness in Jack’s voice as he looked back on his time with Anjelica. It invoked a surprising curl of heat in Elizabeth’s belly; a sneaky little pang that took several moments for her to recognize it as _jealousy._

 _You are utterly ridiculous_ , she scolded herself. But the heart was not a thing to be ruled by reason, and her heart considered Jack _her very own pirate._

Elizabeth couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, praying her voice did not betray the embarrassing stirrings inside her. “Like you and I, you mean?”

“Nay, luv. She tried to kill me several times. Where _you_ actually succeeded.”

He sounded almost _proud_ about it now, but the reminder struck home like a well-aimed arrow, twisting into her heart. “Jack, I—”

As though he sensed the apology on the horizon and couldn’t bear to add such gravity to the moment, Jack placed a finger upon her lips, smiling mischievously. “Like you said, Lizzy. It was a lifetime ago. _I’m_ here now…and _you’re_ here, now. You never answered my question about that room.”

Jack’s long fingers slipped into her hair as he spoke, eliciting the most delicious shudder to gallop down her spine.

Elizabeth was no maiden these days. She’d taken lovers at the worst points of her loneliness, and a man’s touch was no longer some great terrifying and titillating mystery. And yet none of them had ever succeeded in making her feel like _this,_ with just the brush of fingers upon the nape of her neck.

_Damn you, Jack._

How she _wanted_ to kiss him! And yet as his face slowly lowered towards hers she could not suppress the knee-jerk impulse to quip, “Why Jack. You’ve been in my company nearly half an hour before making an indecent proposal. That must be a record.”

His lips curled in a knowing smile, all too aware of her tactics. He did not let it deter his course towards her lips, his heading true. He’d waited too bloody long and travelled too damn far to lose sight of it now. “Indeed. I must be learning patience in my old age,” he answered above her mouth. Their eyes met across the short space that was the length of their noses, the eye-contact jarringly intimate.

“Jack…” she sighed, her insides screwed up with anticipation and fear, unsure if it was a protest or a plea.

Jack smoothed back her wet hair, his touch careful yet gentle, like soothing a nervous animal that might bolt at any moment. His eyes glittered like orbs of onyx in the dark, filled with mystery and promise. “You know, luv, you don’t have to fight me _all_ the time.”

Torn, she sighed against his lips. “I don’t know how not to.” Always, it felt as though they should be locked in the full pitch of battle, even when they were getting along, and she simply didn’t know how to _stop_.

“I can show you,” he promised, and watched with great satisfaction as at last her eyes slipped shut in surrender.

As he closed in to claim his prize a sudden sharp sting in his back caused him to bolt upright, unleashing a cry of dismay. “What the—”

For a moment Elizabeth regarded him with confusion, until she too received the sharp bite, hers in her shoulder. Instantly the world began to grow foggy. “Jack?” She tried to reach for him, but her hand went an entirely different direction than what her mind commanded. Groggily she groped at the pained area, and pulled free a curious little dart, its feathers bright as jewels, like the plumage of tropical birds.

Before the darkness took them Jack managed a glance behind, beholding two figures standing in a shadowy alcove. One looked dismayingly familiar, tall but slight, her arms crossed over her torso in a gesture of triumph.

“Bugger,” he muttered, before losing consciousness completely.

 


	6. And He Made Her His King

# Chapter 6: And He Made Her His King

Elizabeth awoke alone in a tight dark space, and immediately she knew she was at sea by the swaying motion of her environment. In the dim moonlight she could see she was in a cabin, with barely room enough for a berth and a stool. She attempted to right herself in the berth, and found her ankle was shackled to the wall.

Where the hell was she?

This went on for days.

She was brought full rations by a hulk of a man who did not speak, only growled if she seemed to make the slightest motion in his presence. There was something wrong with the flesh of his face, that somewhat reminded her of Barbossa’s crew when they had been undead.

The walls were thin and there was a hole in the planking of the ceiling. She could hear some of the goings on topside.

One evening there was a massive commotion, shouting and gunfire, and she jumped to her feet when she heard Jack’s voice declaring “The ship is ours!”

Then an eerie hush fell over the ship, and nothing more came of it.

With dread in her heart she prayed Jack was not dead.

Two nights later, the sound of a guitar from above woke Elizabeth from a light sleep.

There were voices she knew. Jack, and that woman Anjelica.

Her heart sang with relief to hear Jack’s voice, yet her blood ran cold when they spoke of the pirate Blackbeard, and his plans.

_This was Blackbeard’s ship?!_

Sitting still as a stone, Elizabeth listened closely.

Jack wove his web with a silver tongue, seeking information about the profane ritual of the Fountain. Slyly, Anjelica played along, speaking of the nuances of the ritual. Two silver chalices, and the tear of a mermaid. They were headed towards somewhere called White Cap Bay.

There was shuffling above, and Elizabeth wondered if they were _dancing?_ The thought made her insides twist.

Anjelica intimated that the Fountain was more complicated than merely drinking its waters. Like all powerful magic, it required sacrifice. For a person to gain life with its magic, it had to be taken from someone else. In nature and magic there must be balance in all things. Power could not be conjured from a vacuum.

“Just think, Jack,” said the sly little minx. “We could live _forever,_ you and I. So many people squander the years they are given. It is people like us who should have them. We, who know how to live to the fullest.”

Elizabeth could not hear Jack’s exact reply, though his tone sounded somehow both glib and cautionary.

Anjelica answered with frustration, moving away, harsh words flung from her lips. She spouted something about a prophecy, her father having limited time left on this earth, and that she would do anything to give him more time.

It made Elizabeth’s blood run cold. She wondered to what purpose Anjelica kept her prisoner, and if the ruthless piratess intended to use her as a sacrifice.

 

* * *

 

 

The next night the grotesque man did not bring her supper, but unlocked her manacle and manhandled Elizabeth out the door. It had been days since she had used her legs, and she wobbled a little on uncertain limbs. Elizabeth found herself brought to face Anjelica, and a looming dark man who could be none other than Blackbeard himself. Jack hovered nearby, seeming dissatisfied with the situation, paying baleful glances to a longboat being lowered over the side by the crew.

“How is your singing voice, Elizabeth Swann?” asked Anjelica slyly, winning an unhappy glance from Jack.

“It’s terrible,” he interjected, stepping in front of her as though to hide her from view. “Atrocious, really. You’d be loathe t’hear it. I, on the other hand, am in possession of a rather melodious baritone, if I don’t say so me self. A mermaid herself once told me so—”

With a smirk Anjelica sidestepped Jack, circling Elizabeth like a shark. “For some reason I do not believe you, Jack. Aren’t all fine ladies trained to sing like a nightingale?” she taunted. “Sing for us, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth remained silent, her gaze leveling upon Anjelica. They shared a long look, neither woman backing down to the other. Elizabeth did not relish acting as bait in the bid to gain a mermaid’s tear.

Jack interjected again, “You know—”

He paused when the irritable Latina pirate cocked and pointed her pistol at him. “ _Cayate_ , Jack.” Next she pointed it at Elizabeth, demanding, “Sing.”

Narrowing her eyes, Elizabeth sighed. Jack’s attempts to take her place were heartening, kindling a little fire of hope inside her heart. And yet, she found she didn’t _want_ him to face this danger in her stead. It seemed a burden he bore all too often, and besides. It had been a while since she’d felt the triumph of successful achievement in a caper.

In a high clear voice she began to sing,

 

_“Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be_

_Who love a Johnny sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,_

_While up aloft, in storm or gale, from me his absence mourn,_

_And firmly pray, arrive the day, he home will safe return._

 

_My name it is Eliza, a gov’ner’s daughter fair,_

_And I have left my parents and three thousand pounds a year,_

_My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,_

_There is nothing can console me but my Johnny sailor bold.”_

 

Defiantly Elizabeth looked upon Anjelica, who smiled a predatory smile. But it was Blackbeard who cut through the quiet night with loud clapping, his intense eyes fixed upon Elizabeth. His presence gave her uneasy chills, in the way only Davy Jones and Beckett had ever managed to. There was not a doubt in her mind that she stood in the presence of true evil.

“Not bad, lass. But ye do know the song goes ‘ _my_ Jolly _sailor bold‘_? And I seem to recall the lass’ name was Maria? Or was it Caroline?”

In that moment she could feel Jack’s eyes upon her as a brand. Of course she knew it, but she’d sung her own version to herself so many times in her confinement upon land that she could hardly be expected to perform its purest form.

Fighting not to blush, Elizabeth lifted her chin defiantly. “The Pirate King sings whatever verses she bloody well pleases,” she retorted, winning another chuckle from the devilish pirate.

“Ye’ve got mettle, _Pirate King._ I’ll give ye that.” He paid her an appraising look. “If I didn’t know better I’d guess ye had a big brass pair.”

Disdainfully Elizabeth huffed, tossing her head. “I’ve never understood why bravery should be associated with such a vulnerable pair of dangling appendages.”

This only won more bawdy laughter from Blackbeard, and some of the crew besides.

A handful of men waited nervously in a group near the gunwale, and Elizabeth assumed it was to be the troop who would accompany her in the longboat. They did not fit in with the rest of the crew, and Elizabeth recognized one or two of them from the Captain’s Daughter. She felt certain they had been press ganged, as had she and Jack. One of them laughed, but the rest looked absolutely bloody terrified. Apparently mermaids were a creature to be taken seriously in these waters.

A frisson of fear curled down Elizabeth’s spine. As usual, she didn’t really know what she was getting herself into.

Anjelica held up a small bottle to Elizabeth. “Collect a mermaid’s tear, Pirate King, and prove your life is worth something.”

Elizabeth took the bottle with a skeptical eyebrow. “Only one? Come now, with such a fine troop of lads, we’re sure to have those mermaids weeping with delight. You’d better give us all a vial.”

Though Elizabeth didn’t really believe this, her words had their intended effect, her companions straightening with pride, puffing out their chests a little. Men were so simple sometimes, she thought, smiling inwardly. And yet… Her eyes slid to Jack, who was regarding her with a grave expression, the likes of which she’d rarely seen. Once in the cave of the Isle de Muerte, when he’d shot Barbossa just as his former first mate had pointed a pistol at _her_. And once when his beloved ship was about to be devoured by a Kraken, after she’d sentenced him to death with a kiss.

That too made her uneasy.

Blackbeard seemed to be in a surprisingly jovial mood, sensing blood and adventure in the air. “Confident, aren’t ye, Pirate King?”

Inside her stomach flipped, but all her training as a lady had somehow prepared her for this. Loathe to reveal her true colors, Elizabeth jutted her chin. “You think I was elected just for my looks?”

“Indeed I had suspected as much,” admitted Blackbeard with a sly glance at Jack. “But maybe ye’ll prove me wrong. Off with ye, then.”

The men began to prepare to descend into the launch. Elizabeth followed, and as she passed Jack ducked to murmur in her ear. “Ye can’t show your fear, love, or the mermaids will eat you alive.” Looking straight ahead, afraid that if she looked into his eyes she would melt, she nodded. “And I never met a mermaid who didn’t relish a good yarn, eh? Think of one while you‘re rowing out.”

She laughed a little at that. “You survived an encounter with mermaids by telling stories. Why am I not surprised?”

“Well, that and my disarming good looks…”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile then, turning her gaze up to Jack’s. She could see it all in his soulful black eyes. His worries for the trial ahead, and his anger that he would not be allowed to do this for her. And maybe, just maybe… _no_. She dared not think it now. It would only distract her from the task ahead.

Before she could reply Anjelica cleared her throat loudly. “If I have to point this pistol again I’m going to pull the trigger,” she assured the Pirate King in her thickly accented English, and for the way Jack looked upon Elizabeth, she would have been all too happy to do it too.

With a brave salute to Jack, Elizabeth went over the gunwale, lowering herself down to the longboat with all the agility of an experienced sailor. She took her place at the prow, and her band of ragtag cutthroats began to pull at the oars.

She could clearly see her boys were terrified, their faces drawn. She also read some curiosity of her, the Pirate King, and perhaps distrust too. She recognized no faces from the battle with Beckett and Davy Jones. They had heard stories, undoubtedly, but pirate tales can usually be trusted only as far as one can throw the teller.

Intent on boosting morale, knowing any pirate is susceptible to flattery, no matter how dubious, Elizabeth leaned forward upon her knee. “It’s been a while, my dear fellows, but I am honored to be at sea with a lot as fine as all of you.” She watched as immediately they straightened their posture a little, puffing out their chests subconsciously. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “In my experience there are two kinds of pirates, and you strike me as the second kind.”

“What’s the second kind?” one asked, his curiosity whetted.

“Indomitable men, who can’t be held down by the letter of the law. Men who are not content to accept what their would-be masters allow them, but have the courage to reach out and take what they are owed!” Feeling invigorated by the complement, several of the men gave enthusiastic cries of approval. Elizabeth went on, “This won’t be easy, lads, but I have confidence we’ll see it through. Has anyone here ever actually seen a mermaid before?”

Everyone shook their heads to the contrary, but lost no time in telling of what wicked beasts of the water they were. “They like singing, though,” said the man named Scrum. “If we’re to bring ‘em about, we’ll have to get to singin’.”

Suddenly a great beam of light illuminated the water ahead of them. Blackbeard’s crew had managed to ignite the massive lantern in the lighthouse at the head of the bay. The men pulled hard on the oars, bringing the boat into the light, as Blackbeard had insisted. Two of the men held the boat steady in the waves, and the rest looked expectantly to their King. With the weight of her responsibility heavy on her shoulders, Elizabeth began to drum upon the sides of the launch.

For the second time that night she began to sing:

 

 _As we lay musing on our beds,_  
So early morn at ease,  
We thought upon those lodging beds  
Poor sailors have at sea.

In the second verse the men began to join in:  
  
_Oh, last Easter in the morning fair_  
_We was not far from land_  
_We spied a mermaid sitting on a rock_  
_With a comb and a glass in her hand, in her hand_  
_With a comb and a glass in her hand_  
  
_And first come the bosun of our ship_  
_With courage stout and bold_  
_Stand fast, stand fast brave lively lads_  
_Stand fast brave hearts of gold_  
  
With gusto the boatload of sailors joined in their song, drumming or swaying in time. Soon a high clear voice joined in, and it was not until the verse ended that the men turned to find a woman hanging on the side of their boat, wet hair slicked back from a strikingly beautiful face, regarding them all with limpid blue eyes. There was something eerie in her beauty; some inner sense screamed danger to Elizabeth, despite the maid’s fair looks.

Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat as she realized this in fact a mermaid.

 _“_ Hello there,” she greeted, as though she‘d come upon the creature in her drawing room. “Don’t be afraid, we mean you no harm. What’s your name?”

The mermaid canted her head to the side, as though curious to find a woman aboard this launch filled with scallywags. “Do you speak for these men?” she asked instead.

“I do. I am their King.”

 _“_ A woman?” A second dark-haired mermaid joined on the opposite side, fixing them with a similarly unearthly stare with eyes of glowing violet. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Elizabeth could not help but smile with pride, even if just a little. “Aye, tis true.”

“I thought all human men made their women slaves,” said another mermaid. Soon there were five perched upon the sides of the boat, all looking to Elizabeth with curious bright eyes.

Inwardly Elizabeth winced, thinking that in some cases it wasn’t such a bad analogy. No wonder mermaids ate men, she thought to herself wryly.

“Not all men are so bad,” Elizabeth vouched. “But some men make other men their slaves too. Ladies, we are in a difficult situation. We have been forced to sail with a cruel captain like this, and if we do not bring back a mermaid’s tear he will kill us all.”

One of the mermaids laughed, a sound clear as the tinkling of bells. “Mermaids don’t cry,” she assured Elizabeth haughtily.

“Sometimes we do,” protested another mermaid, one with reddish hair who looked a great deal younger than the others. “Sometimes, when we hear a sad story. Do you know a sad story?”

The other mermaids seemed to lean in closer, propping their chins upon folded arms. “Yes, do you know a sad story?” the rest chorused.

“A lover’s tale?” requested one.

“A story of bravery?” chirped another.

Elizabeth pressed her lips. There was only one story she could think of that fit these criteria. With a deep breath to bolster her courage, Elizabeth nodded. “Aye, I know such a tale.”

The first mermaid who had appeared, the one who had declared so confidently that there would be no mer-tears that night, fixed her piercing blue stare upon the Pirate King. “Make us cry then, your highness. You may keep whatever tears you earn.”

“I thank you kindly for that. Then I will tell you a story…of a princess and a pirate lord,” Elizabeth agreed, and began to recite a tale she knew all too well. The mermaids listened raptly as this king fabricated with such passion in her words. It all began with a nasty fall, and a pirate rescuing a princess when he probably should have let her drown.

It wove on through a raucous account of adventure and love, and Elizabeth’s own heart caught in her throat as she recounted, “And even though she loved the handsome pirate lord, the princess knew there was only one way the crew could survive the wrath of the Kraken. She kissed the pirate lord, distracting him so that she could chain him to the mast of his own ship. The princess rowed away with the rest of the crew, and watched as the Kraken destroyed the magnificent ship, and its captain with it. As the ship sank she felt her own heart being torn to pieces and pulled beneath the angry waves.”

A long silence stretched amongst the mermaids, until finally the young one wailed, “Oh, that’s so awful!” A single silvery tear glittered in the moonlight, quivering at the corner of her eye. At last it began to roll down the mermaid’s fair cheek, and Elizabeth held out her vial, catching it within the glass.

“He deserved it,” said another mermaid. “He made the deal, and he paid his debt.”

“But don’t you see?” interjected the young mermaid. “He came back to save her in the end. He found redemption. He loved her and died for her.”

A dark haired mermaid rolled her eyes. “A rare man who would be so bold. So rare you can be sure it’s just a story.” Despite her callous words, Elizabeth thought she detected a quaver in the mermaid’s voice.

Elizabeth herself found that she herself wanted to shed a tear or two, but with her heart in her throat she kept them at bay.

“What happened next?” asked the first mermaid, pulling a rueful smile from Elizabeth’s lips.

“The princess became a warrior, and went to Hell itself to fetch her pirate lord back from death.”

Elizabeth felt the mermaids lean closer in interest. “And did she find him?”

“Oh yes.”

“And then? He made her his wife?”

“Nay,” sighed Elizabeth, her eyes straying to the distance. “He made her his King.”

The older mermaids released cries of astonishment and approval, and Elizabeth watched with stupefaction as her men collected three more tears from the mermaids. Only the fair mermaid who had been first to appear remained unmoved, regarding Elizabeth with those eerie azure eyes. Slowly a knowing half smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, and a chill of rushed down Elizabeth’s spine.

“Well played, Pirate King. You have your tears now. You’d best be getting back.”

The mermaid splashed back into the water, and soon her compatriots followed. Only the young mermaid lifted a hand in goodbye before disappearing back down into the dark waters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As you can maybe tell from the songs I’ve been into sea chanteys lately. A version of the first is used in Stranger Tides. My favorite version is sung by Stephanie Pitcher, she has a beautiful voice and sounds just like the mermaid. You can find it on You Tube and I think purchase the mp3 on CDBaby.
> 
> A note on the "Johnny Sailor bold"- I totally thought that was what they were singing at first, for obvious reasons. ;)
> 
> The second I found in the album Rogue’s Gallery, the brainchild of Johnny Depp and Gore Verbinsky from back in the POTC glory days. It’s a modern take on the old sea chanteys, and so killer! Been playing it over and over the past couple weeks, and The Mermaid by Martin Carthy is the version I reference here.


	7. Well and Truly Mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this took so long! I’ve been tearing my hear out over it for weeks, but I think I finally like it. Hope you do to! :) Thanks everyone for your comments, they make my day!

# Chapter 7: Well and Truly Mad

 

Jack watched the exchange from the beach through a spyglass, his insides tied up in knots. When finally the men began to row back he wordlessly handed the glass off to Anjelica, stalking towards the dock. It was a rickety old structure, some of the boards rotted. Jack sidestepped them with his usual exaggerated grace, and awaited the launch at the end.

In the moonlight he could see Elizabeth’s proud expression, the Pirate King perched like a fine figure head upon the prow of the boat. She smiled, triumphantly holding the small vial aloft, before tucking it safely into the wrappings that bound her womanly assets.

Relief washed over Jack, and something almost _unbearably_ warm and sweet. It felt like… _Oh no_. Best not to name it, he reckoned. It either was or it wasn’t and to give the beast a name _now_ was only asking for trouble. He would wait for her to reach the dock, and help her disembark with a firm hand, and then perhaps he would pull her into an embrace…and never let go.

Jack liked this idea, and ruminated on it a bit as the launch neared closer, what he assumed to be a rather stupid grin upon his lips.

Then everything went to hell.

There was a terrible cry, an unearthly ear-splitting scream.

A mermaid’s scream.

Jack whirled towards the sound, dread clenching his chest like a fist. What had the blockheads upon the shore done when things were going so bloody well?

He turned back just in time to see Elizabeth’s launch capsize in the sea, dumped over by a school of angry mermaids. There were screams, frothing water, and the few men who managed to surface were dragged back down by shrieking mermaids.

_No no no no no no no…_

Frantically he searched the waves, his body taut as a bowline, ready to plunge in after Elizabeth at first sign of her. _Please_ he begged whatever deity may have been interested. _Please don’t take her. Not now._

He thought he saw a flash of golden hair crest a wave, and coiled to spring after it.

Suddenly Elizabeth surfaced not a yard away from the dock, gasping for air.

“Thank fuck,” spat Jack with relief, dropping to all fours at the edge of the dock. “Come on, darlin’,” he urged, holding out his hand with urgency. Sputtering, she paddled to him. Just as he managed to clasp one of her hands in a firm grip Jack watched with horror as a fair-haired mermaid surfaced from the deep behind Elizabeth, eyes glowing an eerie blue, her hands-like-claws latching on to the Pirate King.

Jack grabbed Elizabeth’s other hand just as the mermaid began to pull, the force of her weight yanking him to his belly on the dock. The mermaid held Elizabeth just below the surface, a cruel smile curling her lips as her eyes met Jack’s. Amused by his panic, she pulled harder. Elizabeth struggled for the surface, but to no avail. Though the beastie looked like a svelte young lady on top, Jack knew there was at least seven feet of tail behind her, with all the strength of a creature of the sea.

It would be just to a mermaid’s taste, to drown someone not but an inch from the surface while a fellow sailor watched, helpless.

He could feel Lizzy’s grip loosening in his hands as her air ran out. _Oh no you don’t_ he thought angrily. _Not now. Not like this._ With all his strength he heaved, his shoulders straining, the tendons in his arms so taut it felt as though they might snap.

Elizabeth’s face broke the surface, and she was able to take a gasping breath of air before a wave crashed over her. The mermaid adjusted her hold, one arm about Elizabeth’s waist, the other clawed hand about her throat. She pressed her cheek to Elizabeth’s, speaking sweetly even as her talons dug into her skin.

“You said you meant us no harm, Pirate King.”

“We didn’t, I swear. It was the wicked captain I told you about. I don’t know—”

“He has captured one of our youngest sisters. I know her voice.”

Through chattering teeth Elizabeth ground out, “I will see that she is freed. I promise you.”

The mermaid hissed. “Why should I trust you now? I usually only feast on men with unfaithful hearts, but sometimes wicked woman-flesh can be a delicacy.”

“I’m all you’ve got,” Elizabeth sputtered, another wave crashing over her.

Jack tried to pull Elizabeth further out of the water, still afraid she might drown right here at the water line. With an annoyed look the mermaid tightened her hold, tugging Elizabeth with a swish of her powerful tail. She and Jack’s gaze met, and though it sent an uneasy frisson of fear down his spine Jack did not look away.

“Is this your dear Pirate Lord you spoke of?” asked the mermaid theatrically, her lips pressed to Elizabeth’s ear.

“Perhaps.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders and elbow joints ached, pulled so taut between Jack and the mermaid that she feared she might snap like a fishing line.

A little snicker hissed from between the mermaid’s teeth. “He must cherish you very much. Only a man who is deeply in love can meet _my_ gaze without losing his sanity.”

Jack said nothing, his jaw set, his dark eyes grave. He was all out of tricks, and if Elizabeth slipped from his grasp he knew she would be lost to the depths forever. “Please,” he spoke, his voice hoarse. “Let her go.”

“How sweet,” hissed the mermaid. “I wonder what you would give to save her? Your life, perhaps?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Ah yes. _The Kraken._ So it’s true, then?”

They bobbed in this unbearable stasis for what felt like an eternity, while the mermaid considered life or death for them both. She began to dig her claw into Elizabeth’s chest, and dread rose in Jack’s heart until he realized she carved a symbol into the Pirate King’s flesh.

Relief washed over Jack, so much that he almost lost his hold on Lizzy.

“See that you free my sister, Pirate King. I warn you, tis a deadly choice for a sailor to break a promise to a mermaid.”

“I will,” coughed Elizabeth, having swallowed a splash of salty sea water.

Next the mermaid pointed a claw at Jack. “Have a care with her heart, Jack Sparrow. Or someday I will pick _your_ flesh from my teeth.”

Jack nodded, unsure of how she knew his name or how he would manage that damn near Herculean task, but he was rendered speechless for perhaps the second time in his entire life.

The mermaid released Elizabeth, disappearing into the depths once more.

Jack didn’t know how he had the strength to haul Elizabeth up on the dock, but he hardly remembered even doing it, cradling her sopping wet form in his arms. His hand pressed her head to the bend of his neck, as though shielding her from the world. Elizabeth let him, exhausted, her lungs burning. She’d not found a hiding place so fine as this for as long as she could remember. Jack positively engulfed her, his warmth combating the chill left by the embrace of the sea.

An uncommon exhaustion washed over Jack. Usually such adventures left him feeling invigorated, high on life and the triumph of besting fate once again. This time the adrenaline rush left him feeling sick all over, this precious bundle cradled in his arms. _That was close. Too close._ He found with some astonishment that the thing he wanted most at that moment, more than aqua de vida, or perhaps even the Pearl, was to go somewhere with this woman and be _still_ for a little while.

“Did anyone else make it out of the water?” she asked, her voice muffled against his neck.

“Fear not, love.”

Heavily she sighed, and curled closer to Jack. What a King she made, she chided herself, leading her men straight into the mouth of doom. She’d been _so close_ to seeing them through.

As though he knew her thoughts, Jack went on, “It wasn’t your fault, Lizzy. But sometimes when you lead men…you lose them. That is a burden ye learn to live with, or it will eat you alive.”

No matter what, it would eat you alive. That was a thing she would have to find out for herself.

He felt her nod against his chest, and for a long time neither said anything more, mourning the lost and marveling that they were still alive. Holding her tightly, Jack thought back on what the mermaid had said, and wondered if Elizabeth would ask him about it. Jack had no idea what he would reply. Complete denial would seem fairly ridiculous at this point, and yet to admit anything incriminating of his heart’s stirrings so blithely did not come easily for him.

“What _is_ this?” Elizabeth finally asked, her voice hoarse. She drew back her collar to expose the symbol drawn by the mermaid, examining it down her nose.

“Mark of the mermaid, love. Means ye’ve made a deal with one. Come into contact with the fishy-maids again without having fulfilled said deal…well. Worse choices have been made, but not many.”

Jack drew back his own collar to reveal a similar scribing, the scar long-faded with time. Feeling as though she were in a dream, Elizabeth lifted curious fingers to it. Jack’s breath hitched for her touch, something indescribable burning in his eyes.

“Lizzy…” His voice came raw, sounding alien even to him.

He had no words for what he felt inside for this woman. A paltry three word phrase seemed awfully trite, too often used, too bloody _limited_. This _thing_ inside him, like a living shining creature made of joy and light, shifted and pulsed as she looked upon him with those spiced-rum eyes. It was nigh _unbearably_ sweet. He brushed a tendril of her wet hair away from her face, winning a sigh that stirred something deep inside Jack. Something terrifying and wonderful, something he dared not name.

As though they possessed a will of their own Jack’s fingers found their way into Elizabeth’s hair, winning a shudder that had little to do with the night’s chill. He kissed her. Not a thing in the world could have kept him from it this time, and in the back of his mind he thought _why just once can’t we share a kiss without terrible sea-beasties bearing down upon us?_ But this time there were no shackles, no tricks, no lies. There was only Elizabeth’s hands behind his neck, pulling him closer to her, and her mouth desperately seeking to taste his. Jack’s tongue swept inside Elizabeth’s mouth, branding her, claiming her. For once she let him without fight, surrendering to his flag, rendered utterly pliable in his arms.

Suddenly there was a great explosion that shook the bay, the great whale oil lantern expending a fireball that illuminated the entire harbor for a single flashing moment. Jack shielded Elizabeth with his body, embers and fiery debris raining down all around. Shrieking cries from the mermaids echoed off the rocks, and quickly the creatures began to retreat to the open sea. 

As quickly as it had all begun, the sea calmed once more.

The pair exchanged a look of surprise, limbs tangled in each other like wind-whipped rigging.

From the shore a sea-roughened voice bellowed, “Is she alive, Sparrow? For her sake I hope she harvested a bloody tear!”

Jack unleashed a few unkind words under his breath before shoving to his feet, giving Lizzy a hand up. She was still unsteady on her legs, and Jack held her firmly with an arm about her waist as they made their way back down the dock. Anjelica scowled at the approaching sight, and Jack shot her a challenging dark look, his patience drained with the strength it had taken to wrest Lizzy from the mermaid’s deadly grasp.

Elizabeth dared meet Blackbeard’s gaze for a few electrifying seconds, before producing the vial from inside her wrappings. She looked down the beach, viewing a young mermaid captured in what looked like a coffin made of glass. A few pirates stood guard over her.

Anger rose in Elizabeth’s breast like the swell of the tide, and she would have launched herself at Teach had Jack not held her back. “What was the bloody point of sending us out there, if this was your plan all along?” she demanded, waving towards the captive mermaid.

“Just hedging my bets, Pirate King,” answered Blackbeard, seeming only amused by her fury.

“You might have had _four_ of these, had your greed not gotten the better of you. Good men died because of your impatience.”

Blackbeard raised eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. “Indeed. What’s three less tears, and a handful of drowned pirates, when I have a mermaid in my grasp now? I shall have as many as I wish.”

Elizabeth clenched her jaw, biting down on a reply that would probably earn her a bullet between the eyes. She decided it would be best not to mention the promise she’d made to the mermaid. Instead she handed over the vial, knowing Blackbeard would have it one way or the other. As his fingers brushed hers a chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the wet and the cold.

Blackbeard was the _first_ type of pirate she’d mentioned, but had not been pressed to describe in the boat. A man who enjoyed killing for the sake of killing, relished the sight of blood on his blade and bodies on the ground for the power it granted his reputation.

In short, Captain Blackbeard was well and truly mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah yeah I know, Jack’s the one who blew up the light house and dove down into the bay…ah well. This whole scene in the movie felt weird to me, like the writers sat down and made a list of possible high places Jack could jump from, and wrote the script around it haphazardly. Lighthouse, check. Cliff, check… Flintlock roulette scene that makes no sense, check… But we’ll get to that. :)


	8. Two Sides of the Same Coin

# Chapter 8: Two Sides of the Same Coin

The next day, trekking through the treacherous mangrove swamps in waist deep water, Elizabeth thought that the previous night’s interlude with Jack may have been a distant dream. Neither the heat nor the mosquitoes or even the poisonous snakes could equal the misery inflicted by her very own heart, the treacherous thing. It roiled in her breast like storm-thrashed seas, merciless in its destruction of all her recently hard-won happiness.

Was it really just yesterday that Jack defied and begged _a mermaid_ for her life? Had it only been last night that he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her like there was no tomorrow?

Perhaps he knew there wouldn’t be, for them.

Up ahead, she watched Jack Sparrow flirt and banter with Anjelica. She tried to tell herself that it was all just a ruse to gain more knowledge of the profane ritual, but it all seemed _too real._ Every playful glance he shot the _chica_ hit home in Elizabeth’s heart like a thrown blade, every wry smile like a lead ball to the gut. He even called her _amor—_ love, in Spanish, and that one little word she so considered _theirs_ managed to claw painfully at her insides.

She decided for her own sanity she simply couldn’t watch, and she fell back in the line to be closer to the captured mermaid. Sirena was her name, and a pretty little siren she was, pink tail and sea-foam green eyes. The mermaid looked to her through the glass with eyes that seemed impossibly wise for a shell so youthful. She wondered if somehow the mermaid knew of the promise Elizabeth had made to her elder sister. Elizabeth got the distinct sense that the mermaid was attempting to communicate _something_ with her.

As they trekked on it seemed the mermaid was losing consciousness, the color of her tail fading to a sickly gray, like the rainbow-colored fishes who lost their color in death in the fishmonger’s stalls. Alarmed, Elizabeth studied the glass box, and realized the buffoons who had constructed it had not left any means for the exchange of fresh air. Elizabeth put her hand upon the side of the glass, and with pleading eyes the siren pressed her hand in mirror to hers.

“She can’t breathe,” she informed the bearers, who ignored her with a mindless grunt.

Knowing there was not a moment to lose, Elizabeth snatched a blade from the belt of one of the nearby pirates, driving it home beneath the lid and popping it free. There was but an inch opened to the outside air, but immediately the siren girl pressed her lips to the crack, gasping for oxygen.

Immediately Elizabeth found herself with three pistols and a musket pointed at her head. Very slowly she lifted her arms, extending the blade pommel first to its owner. Indignant that he’d been taken unawares, the pirate snatched it back, nearly slicing her palm to ribbons.

“What’s this?” demanded Blackbeard, a hand upon the pommel of his great sword.

“I bring you mermaid tears which you carelessly toss back to the sea. Now you have caught a mermaid but seem intent on suffocating her. Is there no end to your careless waste, Captain Teach?”

Her heart thundered in her chest as Teach began to draw his sword, his blue eyes glinting cold as ice chips.

Jack regarded them both with wide eyes, a look that had once been reserved for the whelp alone.

_Now you’ve done it._

He began to insert himself between them, moving as inadvertently as possible, pretending to stumble.

The wicked blade cleared its scabbard an inch before Blackbeard burst out laughing, sliding it back home.

“Good thing we’ve brought you then, eh Pirate King?” he bellowed, ignoring Jack. “Keep proving your usefulness, and you may survive yet.”

He began walking again, and the rest of the party followed suit. Jack shot her a look she didn’t quite understand, holding up a finger as though to say something, before thinking better of it. He turned to follow suit, falling in beside Anjelica again. It had been _annoyance_ , perhaps, she reckoned. Maybe he was tired of keeping her out of trouble.

She supposed she couldn’t really blame him, and her heart sank even further.

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

They climbed. Up and up and up, until Lizzy’s thighs burned with the exertion of propelling herself up over rough terrain and boulders. They needed to find the silver chalices for the ritual, which supposedly could be found in the ruins of Ponce de Leon’s ship, the _Santiago._ Jack claimed to know where the old boat’s carcass lay, and they followed him.

The party trekked until they hit a dead end at a ravine, the rotten remnants of a rope bridge constructed long ago hanging by threads from its tethers.

Blackbeard scowled at the gully, as though Mother Nature had placed this obstacle _just_ to annoy him. He and Jack peered over the edge of the cliff. A large river rushed below, but it was a long _long_ way down. “That was decidedly _intact_ on the map,” Jack grimaced, looking to the ruined bridge.

“Looks like you’ll be taking a swim, Captain Sparrow.”

Jack’s grimace deepened. “I’d rather not.”

As though he hadn’t heard him, Captain Teach held out his hand. “Give me the compass.”

Jack held the precious object close to his chest, seeming genuinely offended. “ _No_ ,” he refused.

Blackbeard made a gesture to his Bokor quartermaster, and the huge man tossed the voodoo doll of Jack Sparrow’s likeness over the cliff. Jack winced as though bracing himself for a blow as the little cloth facsimile spiraled through the air towards the river. But it landed in the fast moving water without incident, earning a chuckle from Teach. “See? Right as rain, Sparrow. The compass, if you please, and be on your way.”

Jack peeked over the side of the cliff again. “I still fail to see the merit of this _terrible_ idea.”

His patience gone, Blackbeard withdrew one of his silver-chased pistols, pointing it between Jack’s eyes. Elizabeth’s heart lurched, and Anjelica sprang forward, hand out. “Father!”

Jack, however, appeared unmoved.

Despite his madness, Blackbeard needed him, and he knew it.

With a crooked grin, Blackbeard next pointed the pistol at his daughter. Jack still appeared unmoved, though Anjelica did not seem to appreciate the joke. “Father?” For the first time in this caper there was a thread of doubt in her voice, and Elizabeth almost felt pity for her.

Jack spread his hands as if to say _be my guest._

Blackbeard chuckled, and next pointed the pistol at Elizabeth. Though her heart thumped hard in her chest, she did her best not to appear affected, raising her chin at the infamous pirate captain. When she met his eyes defiantly a chill spiked down to her core. Perhaps this really would be the end.

Immediately Jack’s expression turned solemn. “Hold on a minute.” Placating, he held out the compass towards Teach. “Let’s not do anything rash, eh?”

Anjelica’s expression shifted from fear to rage in a second flat. “ _Hombre infiel!_ ” She drew her own pistol, pointing it at Elizabeth.

Before the Pirate King even had a chance to duck Jack sprang into action, and it seemed everything happened at once. Jack swatted Angelica’s pistol, the weapon emitting a deafening bark, the lead ball striking the foliage a foot left of Elizabeth’s head. Jack tossed Teach the compass as a further distraction, calling “See ye upriver at the cave, mate!”, and grabbed Elizabeth’s hand.

The next thing she knew they were sprinting towards the edge of the ravine, and then air born, plummeting towards the river below. She hardly even had a chance to scream before they struck the water, the impact from such a height a shocking blow.

Elizabeth kicked against the swirling current with all her might, surfacing with a gasp. Jack appeared not far from her, and for a long moment they regarded each other as they regained their breaths, caught in the gravity of the other’s stare.

Finally Elizabeth spoke. “You saved me.”

Jack appeared almost _offended_ by the observation.

“Are ye really _that_ bloody surprised by now?”

With a sigh she turned away, beginning the arduous swim towards the bank. She honestly didn’t know what to make of Jack. He was fire one minute and ice the next. Whatever that mermaid thought she saw between them…she must have been sorely mistaken.

“Lizzy, wait,” he called, catching her hand.

She tried to wrench away, suddenly _furious._ “I’ve _been_ waiting!” she exclaimed, thankful that she was soaking wet so that he hopefully would not notice the tears in her eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you for _years,_ Jack!” He would not release her hand, those _eyes_ boring into her as though they could see _straight_ to her soul…it was _maddening._

If he knew _so much,_ then why didn’t he know that she _loved_ him, that she’d _always_ loved him, and that watching him make eyes at that insufferable _senorita_ made her feel like she wanted to _die_?

Helpless, she gave in to the childish impulse to splash him, a wave of water hitting him full in the face.

The indignant surprise written upon his handsome visage was _priceless._

Before they knew it they were engaged in a full on battle, water and insults flung full force at each other. This went on until Elizabeth could hardly even see Jack for the froth of water before her, and she did not know it as he sneaked inside her guard, grabbing her with an arm like a band of iron around her waist. His mouth crashed over hers, lips somehow soft and demanding all at once.

For a moment time froze. _They_ froze, and subsequently sank below the surface of the swift moving water.

Jack did not release her, somehow managing to resurface and tread water _and_ kiss her silly all at once. Without a thought she opened to him, moaning as his tongue swept inside to do battle with hers. Even their _kisses_ were like combat, she mused foggily, before her mind went happily and completely blank but for the sensation of Jack’s lips on hers. He kissed her until she thought she might suffocate, and gladly too. Finally he broke away, his forehead pressed to hers. “Damnable woman,” he grumbled. “Saucy insufferable Pirate King. I _love_ you. Savvy?”

A sound escaped her that was a cross between a laugh and a sob, her fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck. “Why didn’t you come for me?” she demanded, her throat tight with tears she was determined _not_ to let fall. “Why did you let me leave? I thought you _hated_ me.”

“I thought I did too, for a time. But then…I didn’t. Turns out love and hate can be two sides of the same coin, darlin’.” He kissed her again, a gentler press of lips. It felt like an apology, and just maybe, a new beginning. “Now can we get out of this bloody river before we are eaten by a crocodile?”

Laughing, she nodded, reluctant to let go of him. Somehow they had managed to stay afloat throughout their kiss, and now she marveled that they hadn’t drowned each other. With sure strokes they made their way to the bank, slogging up onto the shore. Jack looked down at himself with the indignant disgust of a wet cat, clearly not pleased to have been soaked through yet again on this adventure.

“Perhaps we should strip down and let our clothes dry,” he suggested with a sly smile that glinted gold. “We’ve quite a trek ahead of us, and I would hate to see you chaff, _my liege_.”

Wringing out her long hair, Elizabeth laughed lightly for the suggestion, even as heat pooled in her belly for the mischievous warmth in his eyes. “How considerate you are of my well-being, my love.”

Jack straightened a little, a goofy little smile curling his lips. “Say that again?”

She found her way into his arms, finding that they flowed together like water. “I said I love you, Jack Sparrow.” Gently she pressed her lips to his, her toes curling in her boots as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her snug against him.

“ _Captain_ Jack Sparrow,” he teased, before claiming her mouth again. “Is that a _yes_ to the shedding of our clothing?” His large hands found their way beneath her shirt _quite_ easily, kneading the curve of her waist in a way that made her knees weak.

“That is a _no,_ ” she somehow managed to counter, glancing back up the cliff to see several of Blackbeard’s party watched them from above, Anjelica included. “I can’t say I fancy an audience for such a thing.”

Jack paid an unkind glance up to their peanut gallery, taking her hand in his. “Me neither, I suppose. Come on, then. We’ve a pair of chalices to find. We have to make it back before those cod-for-brains kill that mermaid, or you’ll never be able to set foot on a ship again. Then what will we do with ourselves? Nothing so sorry as a couple of pirates who can’t go to sea…”

Elizabeth felt warmth bloom inside that Jack’s concerns for the future seemed to include her. They began their trek through the jungle, Jack using his cutlass as a machete in one hand, and the fingers of his other hand firmly laced with hers, as though he feared he might lose her to the forest if he dared let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Hombre infiel! –Unfaithful man.   
> **It has recently come to light that Blackbeard’s name was probably actually Thatch, not Teach, (a typo in an old document, apparently, and who can really read that bloody flowery handwriting anyway?) but I’ve decided to use the latter because of the movie and it is more commonly accepted. 
> 
> A/N: This might take a turn for M in the soon future, (I’m sorry, I TRIED to write a semi-innocent story, but…the truth is I just have a dirty mind. :P ) so you might have to adjust your browsing settings to find it next time. Or, just add it to your alerts. :) Thank you for all the kind and constructive comments! You very much make my day, and make writing this so much fun!


	9. Monsieur le Comte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you, THANK YOU everyone who has been following along and left a comment, it is the most wonderful reward! You make this writer very happy indeed! :)

 

 

“Why did you give Teach the compass?” Elizabeth asked as they walked through the dense underbrush, ducking an unruly branch that flew past her head after Jack sliced it in two.

“Because I actually want him to find the Fountain,” said Jack, for once open about his plans with her. “It will set the stage for negotiation, love. For, he has the _Pearl_ aboard the _Revenge._ Anjelica showed me his magical collection of ships in a bottle.”

Elizabeth’s mood dampened at mention of _that woman_ again. “Is that why you were so friendly with her?” she asked stiffly. Even with her hand in his, he felt her drawing away from him, like the tide pulls at a piece of driftwood back out to sea. After all this, he simply couldn’t _stand_ it.

Quite suddenly he hauled her back into his arms, bending her backwards with his ardor. His mouth crashed over hers, and once more she felt herself melting beneath his attentions, a plaintive moan escaping her when he drew away. “I used her, Lizzy. It’s not nice but there it is. I do what I have to, but you’re the one…” He faltered, wrinkling his nose in a way that would have been comical, had her sanity not clung to his every word. “You’re the _one_ ,” he finally repeated, his voice husky, placing a hand over her heart. “Hold that _here,_ and meanwhile I’ll do my best to get us out of this in one piece, eh? _”_

She nodded, pressing her cheek to his with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Elizabeth felt Jack pause, before pulling her closer. “S’alright, luv. You didn’t know.”

“No, I mean _I’m sorry._ For _everything_ , Jack.” She buried her nose behind his hear, inhaling his scent and finding she didn’t really ever want to move from this spot. When he realized what she meant—the Kraken, her stubbornness, her jealousy— _everything_ , his hold upon her tightened.

“Me too, love. Me too.” They embraced for what felt like forever, and yet never long enough, before Jack pulled back. “Shall we find those chalices, then? I feel a sudden and unyielding need to see you in the cabin of the Pearl, preferably _sans_ knickers.”

She laughed, swatting him playfully. “What do you have against my knickers, Jack?”

“They offend me _most_ completely,” he jested, pulling her along the path. “I told you it should be a dress or nothing at all.”

“You prefer me helpless, and trussed like a calf in corsets?”

“Now, Lizzy, we both know you’re never helpless. Besides, I rather liked taking you _out_ of your corset the one time.” He threw her a mischievous gold grin over his shoulder.

“By _cutting_ me out of it? You would be hell on a lady’s pin money, Jack Sparrow, I can rightly see that.”

“And since when does a _King_ worry about pin money?”

Elizabeth laughed again, though this time it had a bitter tinge to it. “A King who does not have access to her own inheritance, perhaps, and watches her uncle fritter it away by the fistful on gambling and his wife’s absurd tastes.”

Jack paid her a wry little smile over his shoulder. “Ah yes. Can’t touch it till y’ve been properly married off. Perhaps we’ll have to do something about that.” He thought a little bit, and once he warmed to the idea there was an infectious spark in his eyes, and he rambled excitedly. “Wouldn’t I make a splendid Count?” He fluttered his fingers in the air before them, painting their futures in his imagination. “ _Le Comte de Monte Cristo_ , perhaps. Always liked that name…A mysterious and _dashing_ foreigner who saved you from _yet another_ interlude with Caribbean pirates. What an aptitude you have for stumbling into such troubles, Miss Swann! _Anyways_ , you were _so_ overcome that you agreed to marry me on the spot, right on the deck of my beautiful ship, _La Perle Noir_! _Monsieur le Comte_ speaks hardly _any_ English, of course, but sometimes the bond between a man and a woman transcends all language…”

He turned to gauge her reaction to his little scheme, finding her spiced-rum colored eyes glittering with amusement. She was trying not to smile, and failing _spectacularly._ “Are you saying you mean to win my hand by _impersonating_ foreign nobility, Jack?”

Jack squeezed her fingers, his black eyes positively _dancing_ with merriment. “Aye, well, I asked ye outright once to no avail. But let it not be said Captain Jack Sparrow ever lacks for creativity in a scheme.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips, thinking back on that day on the Pearl, and how her heart _sang_ when Jack proposed mar-i-age. Her heart, wicked thing that it was, whispered that she could forget about all her promises to Will Turner _so_ easily in Jack Sparrow’s arms. “You can hardly blame me for not taking you seriously that day,” she countered. “We both know you were far more interested in getting me into your cabin, than actually _marrying_ me.”

Kohl-lined eyes narrowed in her direction. “And why are you so sure of _that_ , your nibs?”

“Because…” Frowning, Elizabeth realized she wasn’t sure she really had a good answer. The fact was, even if sometimes in a very roundabout way, Jack had _always_ been good to her. Marriages were built upon less than _that_ every day. Annoyed by her guilt, she huffed, “I _was_ engaged to another man at the time of that proposal.” She felt a pang in her heart for the late William Turner. The thought of Will would always pain her, though she found the edge of that pain had dulled with time.

For just a fraction of a moment Jack faltered, reminded of her first and perhaps truest love, before turning back to the path ahead. “Sorry, Elizabeth. Shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Suddenly she felt very low for cutting Jack down when in his roundabout way he was trying to be sweet. “Jack…” Elizabeth searched her heart, and the words that fell from her lips next felt startlingly true. “I never would have wished Will’s fate upon him. But I have come to think we would have been an ill-suited match, in the end. I wanted to say yes that day, you know. But I was afraid. Afraid of disappointing Will. Afraid that all the vicious whispers behind our backs were right, that a union between a blacksmith and a governor’s daughter would never work. Afraid that I would be nothing but a plaything to you. A young woman alone on ship full of pirates…” She shook her head. “I had to keep _what little_ power I still had.”

Jack halted in his tracks so abruptly Elizabeth bumped into him.

He whirled, his hands upon her shoulders, his grip tight enough to bruise.

“Of all the men in your life, I _never_ tried to take your power, Elizabeth. You may accuse me of many underhanded things, but _never_ that.”

Upon their very first meeting he’d set her free from society’s confinements, slicing away that restrictive undergarment that attempted to suffocate her, and he’d only continued the trend in every encounter after that, offering her liberty with open palms at every turn. He’d always seen her for what she was from the very beginning. Peas in a pirate pod. Virgin Huntress, Woman Warrior, the goddess Diana and Athena melded in the flesh. He’d made her a bloody _king,_ for Christ’s sake. What could be more empowering than _that_?

Elizabeth gasped, surprised by the vehemence in his tone. “I suppose I didn’t see it like that, then. It was hard not to feel like a puppet at the end of your strings, the way you manipulated us all two and fro.”

Jack pressed his lips, unsure he could defend himself against _that_ one. “I know I put you in danger plenty,” he finally said. “But never anything I didn’t think you could handle perfectly well.”

“You thought me capable of fending off a hungry Kraken?”

She regretted saying it the moment the words left her lips, watching the spark fade in Jack’s eyes, replaced by a shadow she desperately wanted to chase away.

“Touché, love. In the end, I certainly deserved what I got.”

He turned to start walking again, but it was Elizabeth who grabbed him this time, frown lines deep upon her brow. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

She willed him to believe her, coffee-colored eyes earnest as they met his. She didn’t know what would be best: to have it out once and for all over that damnable cephalopod, or to never mention the bloody thing ever again.

Jack saw something in her face that caused him to soften, the tension releasing from his shoulders. He reached up to cup her face, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered closed for that simplest of touches, even as her arms burned where he’d gripped her so hard before. That was life with Jack, she realized. Pain one moment and exquisite sweetness the next, but _never_ did a moment pass with him in which she did not feel extraordinarily _alive._

She wanted _that_.

For always.

“The answer’s yes, you know,” she sighed. “If you ever should like to ask me again, that is.”

She felt his lips brush hers, and her heart made a good attempt at fluttering out of her chest. Elizabeth couldn’t quite bring herself to open her eyes just yet. If this was a dream…she didn’t want to wake up. “I should like to, I think,” said Jack quietly, his voice a low rumble deep in his chest.

A slow smile curled her lips, a tingling warmth coiling in her belly as the meaning of that sank in.

_I should like to._

His words echoed in the halls of her heart, a place that had been so utterly _empty_ for so very long. They filled her with elation, a happiness so sweet it almost felt as though it should be forbidden. Steadying herself with hands on his chest, she could feel his heartbeat beneath her palms as she stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his once more. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her snugly into his warmth, and for a few blissful seconds they were able to forget about Teach, the Fountain, and this bloody jungle that would relish the chance to eat them alive.

 


	10. Ravished by a Pirate

# Chapter 10 – Ravished By A Pirate

***hidalgo – a Spanish nobleman**

 

On they trekked, until reaching a rocky clearing. The sun hung low in the sky, dusk close at hand. Jack pointed up, and she could just make out the silhouette of a ship teetering precariously upon another cliff.

“More bloody climbing,” she grumbled under her breath, her legs burning from the day’s exertions.

“Almost there, Lizzy,” Jack encouraged her, taking her hand once more. “Mayhap the ship will make a good shelter for the night.”

Nodding, she followed him without further complaint up the craggy mountain.

The deck boards groaned as they stepped upon the ship, the ancient wooden monstrosity protesting their weight. It seemed to shift a little as they made their way down the companionway, and the pair of explorers proceeded with caution, eyes wide. They searched for the captain’s cabin, thinking that anything of extreme value would be stashed away there.

Upon entering, they were met by quite a grisly sight. Ponce de Leon himself still occupied his cabin, his skeleton on the verge of turning to dust in the huge carved wood berth. Jack seemed unaffected by the macabre scene, smiling wide enough for gold to flash in the shadows of the room. “Oh look, Lizzy! Ever made love in an hidalgo’s bed?”

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. The prospect seemed _dubious_ at best. “I fear not. Have _you_?”

He laughed, perching upon the edge of the bed. A cloud of dust erupted from the counterpane, causing Elizabeth to sneeze. The memory of this certain _something_ seemed to bring him much delight, a twinkle in his eye as he recounted, “Once in one of the _minutes_ in history when the English weren’t at war with Spain we put in at Cadiz. I was very young, no more than fifteen, and a pretty lad I was, if I don’t say so me’self. I caught the eye of a lonely doña rolling by in her carriage…a lady whose name I don’t recall,” he finished, noting the unamused glare being shot his way. “Oh, Lizzy. C’mere, meant nothing by it. I’m old, you know. Had a _few_ adventures, before finding you.”

“You may finish your story, so long as her name was not _Anjelica,_ ” Elizabeth huffed, accepting Jack’s outstretched hand.

“It most certainly was _not_ , love. Said she was a _lady_. But perhaps it’s a story for another night. Or _never_ , as it were.”

She allowed him to pull her into the circle of his arms, standing between his long legs. Elizabeth sighed, tracing the curve of his brow and cheek. “I want to hear about your adventures, Jack. I know you lived a long and full life before meeting me.”

Jack closed his eyes, lulled by her caresses. He was exhausted, and yet having her in his arms set him on fire. “Reckon ye had a few of your own adventures in my absence,” he mused, his tongue darting out as her fingers traced the fullness of his lips.

A sad smile tugged at the corner of Lizzy’s lips as she thought of the _adventures_ she’d had in those years she marked in her memory by Jack’s absence. “You want to hear about my paltry escapades, Jack? Perhaps how I lost my virginity to First Lieutenant Reginald Stark, for no better reason than he was in possession of laughing dark eyes and a hint of rogue that _slightly_ reminded me of you? Ah, then there was Lucas Pembroke, the next Viscount of Westmorland, another swarthy rascal who inexplicably proposed immediately after, even though he was already engaged. That nearly caused quite a scandal. And then—”

Jack found his insides twisting at the thought of these other men touching _his_ Lizzy. Jack had found Elizabeth’s jealousy amusing. Sweet. More than a bit gratifying…and yet now that the tables were turned—so did his stomach. He’d never been a jealous man before, and yet suddenly he could not _stand_ to let her go on. He silenced her with gentle fingers upon her lips. “Point taken, darlin’. We’ll keep those adventures to ourselves, eh?”

Elizabeth leaned into his touch, closing her eyes so that he would not see the sudden wave of pain that clenched her heart. “All I wanted was _you_ ,” she admitted in a rare moment of wide-open vulnerability. The back of her throat suddenly felt unbearably tight. _I will not cry_ she resolved, clenching her jaw. _Bloody useless thing to do._

When Jack’s lips touched hers the urge faded, replaced by something shining and new within her.

“I’m sorry, Lizzy,” he murmured between kisses. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she sighed, and her statement won a bitter chuckle.

“Not even _I_ believe that, darlin’,” he assured her, resting his head upon her breast. It was Elizabeth’s turn to sigh as his strong hands kneaded her sides, finding their way under her shirt once more. It was still a little damp from their dip in the river.

Elizabeth gasped as he pressed his lips to the bare skin of her chest, pulling her closer with hands splayed across her back. Her legs felt weak as he continued to blaze a path up her neck, nibbling upon her jawline. “Were you _serious_?” she panted. “ _Here_ , in this filthy bed?” She wanted to protest, but found with Jack’s hands upon her she couldn’t think of a single reason she should really say no. She wanted— _needed_ —to be close to him. To feel his body pressed against hers. It was the best remedy she could think of against _all_ their troubles in the world.

Jack chuckled against her skin, a low sound that tugged at something deep in her belly. “I tend to forget where I really am when I’m with you. Moldery old bed or a ship beset by Kraken…”

Elizabeth stiffened for the reminder of her betrayal, suddenly turned to stone beneath his touch. “ _Will you never forgive me_?” she whispered.

Jack cursed himself for sticking his foot in his mouth _again._ He was bloody tired, and could hardly think first about the words flowing out his mouth. “I do believe I was making a joke of it, love. A compliment, even. It’s done. Past. _Behind us_. I forgave you a long time ago. Can you forgive _me_?”

“It seems I always do.” In the next few seconds she melted against him, forgetting herself, where they were, her fingers in Jack’s hair and her mouth upon his. Clever fingers began working the buttons of her vest, and she well would have let him strip her from head to toe had not a pointed voice from the shadows interrupted them.

“Not that I’m surprised to see you two have finally taken up, and not that I wouldn’t _mind_ watching, but don’t you have something a bit more _pressing_ at hand?”

Elizabeth jerked up, a hand grasping for a sword that was not at her hip. “Hector Barbossa?”

“In the flesh, _your Highness_.” He stepped forward from the shadows, his peg leg clunking upon the rotting planking. He offered a sweeping bow that relayed far more mockery than respect.

Elizabeth’s fist clenched at her side, the urge to hit him surging in her blood as she remembered everything Jack had told her. She took a step towards him, and the ship lurched. Jack grabbed her arm, pulling her back, and the ship balanced again. “Much as we’d _both_ like to trounce the scoundrel, love, perhaps a bit more tact while we are balanced upon this see-saw in the sky?”

Barbossa’s smile only widened, displaying his yellowed teeth. His eyes strayed downward in a leer, and Elizabeth realized her shirt was open to her naval, the wrappings that bound her breasts on open display. With an indignant huff she turned to right herself once more, grumbling about lecherous pirates. Jack tactfully stepped in front of her, though he could not suppress a rather triumphant twist of lips. “So is it safe to assume you’re after the Fountain as well, Hector?”

“A safe bet indeed, Jack. More specifically, those silver chalices. As you two lovebirds were banging about above deck I found _this._ ” He toed a wooden box out from under the bed, the imprints of two chalices empty within it. “I fear our friends the Spanish have beaten us to them.”

Jack sighed, raising an eyebrow. “Of course they have.”

“Mayhap we should work together to get them back? I know where they’re camped…”

“Why cut us in on the deal?” asked Elizabeth suspiciously, winning another yellowed grin.

“Why not for old time’s sake, your Majesty.”

“Old time’s sake my arse,” she huffed, crossing her arms and winning a chuckle from the older pirate turned privateer.

“And a fine one it is, Pirate King. Very well. _I_ am in possession of a good old fashioned English naval crew. A blunt instrument, as it were. What I _need_ is something better suited for subtlety.”

“You need Jack’s smarts,” she filled in.

“Lad has his faults, but his skill in an underhanded heist is rivaled by none. I don’t fancy taking on the Spaniards in a fair fight. They outnumber us three to one. Best to sneak in and sneak out, with no one the wiser.” He clomped his peg leg on the decking, causing the ship to teeter. “As ye can see, stealth ain’t my strong suit anymore.”

Elizabeth turned to regard Jack, who was uncharacteristically silent through all this. His dark eyes fixed upon Hector, and had that stare been directed _her_ way Elizabeth would have been worried.

“I have yet to understand why _we_ need _you,”_ she prompted, though she already had an inkling of where Hector was headed with their negotiations.

“We get the chalices,” said Barbossa. “You take them to the fountain. Leave a trail for my men and I to follow. Keep Blackbeard unawares, and at the opportune moment I will strike. _You_ two lovebirds go free, _I_ get to kill Blackbeard, and with any luck we’ll be off this rock before the Spanish are any the wiser.”

“What has you so determined to cross swords with Blackbeard?” asked Jack.

“We have a score to settle. That devil turned the Pearl against me and my crew with his black magic. Ropes came alive, strangling men to death, throwing them overboard. I had to cut off my own leg to escape.”

Wondering if Barbossa knew the Pearl dwelled in a bottle aboard the Revenge, he asked, “And what happened to her after that?”

“Sunk I presume, God rest her soul. I passed out in a longboat, and when I woke she and the Revenge were gone.”

Noting the tension in Jack’s shoulders at mention of his other great love, Elizabeth smoothed a hand over his back. He eased a little, leaning into her touch. She tactfully changed the subject, “And you will take the chalices back to King George, I presume?”

Barbossa shrugged. “I must have _something_ to show for my troubles, your Highness. Wouldn’t mind a crack at the Fountain, either. M’no spring chicken anymore, if ye haven’t noticed.” Slyly he looked to Jack. “Neither is he, truth be told.”

Elizabeth wondered what Hector knew of the ritual, but as long as Jack kept his mouth shut she would do the same. Hector was not a man who would flinch at trading a life for life if it meant prolonging his own. However, he _was_ an excellent sort to have around when there were throats that needed cutting. Perhaps this could work to their advantage _somehow_ after all.

 

* * *

 

 

They found the Spanish encamped not far from Ponce de Leon’s ship, in a clearing. There were at least a hundred men, the camp a sprawl of tents stretching as far as the eye could see. One particular structure stood out, bigger, outfitted with draperies bearing a coat of arms. Even in the heart of darkness, the Spanish nobility made sure they were paid their proper due.

“My money’s on the chalices being in there,” murmured Jack, watching the encampment mill about, preparing to bed down for the night. They crouched on the outskirts, watching from the shadows beneath a palmetto.

“Then this will be like taking candy from a baby. Help me, Jack.” Elizabeth retreated further into the shadows, a dress they’d found in a chest in Ponce’s ship rolled up under her arm.

“Are ye sure you want to do this, Lizzy?” Jack didn’t sound terribly enthused for the plan he’d come up with himself. Mainly because it involved sending Elizabeth into the heart of the enemy camp.

“It will be the easiest way. We already talked about this. Come on.”

Jack sighed, supposing it was true. Elizabeth still possessed the type of heart-stopping beauty that caused men to lose their wits, just by her walking into a room. He was fairly certain the Spaniards would stand little chance against her. _He_ certainly didn’t.

She began to strip out of her knickers and shirt, and when Barbossa so much as hinted at moving his head in her direction Jack snarled, “Eyes forward, less ye want t’lose them too.”

Barbossa snickered, but did as he was told.

Elizabeth looked up with the skirt of the dress about her waist, frozen in place by the expression of _raw_ hunger in Jack’s eyes. A sudden flush of heat blossomed across her skin, her lips parted in a silent _oh_ of longing _._ A small sound escaped her as Jack grabbed her up, slanting his mouth over hers. He tugged at the wrappings that bound her breasts, winning a small whimper that lit him on _fire_. Somehow he managed to unwrap her and dress her at the same time, pulling up the sleeves and unwinding the linen in a flurry of clever fingers. His hands strayed to the soft flesh of her breasts more than once, kindling an ache of longing in her belly and between her legs. He turned her in his arms to lace up the back of the gown, pulling harder on the strings than was absolutely necessary, his breathing ragged. She felt herself turn to putty in his hands, marveling at how she _loved_ being _manhandled_ by him.

Clearly she had lost her mind?

Perhaps long ago, when it came to Jack Sparrow.

As he tied her off he turned her once more in the circle of his arms. “Poor darling,” he murmured against the skin of her throat, sucking at her flesh hard enough to leave a mark. “Ye look like you’ve been ravished by a pirate,” he said with a smirk, his fingers tangling in her hair, giving it a good hard tousle that caused her to arch against him.

Strong hands traveled to the bodice of her dress, ripping it a little, winning another moan that caused Barbossa to hiss, “ _Quiet_! I’m not going to die tonight because the two of you were too _stupid_ to not have swived each other by now…”

Suddenly embarrassed, Elizabeth stilled against Jack, her breath heavy against the hollow of his throat. She felt his lips curl with amusement against her temple. “ ‘Spose he’s right.”

“Promise me we’ll try this again later?” she whispered, nibbling at the lobe of his ear. Jack felt his knees go weak beneath him.

“Oh, _that’s_ a promise, love. Ready?” He pulled the shoulder of her gown down a little, scrutinizing her like arranging a work of art before him.

“Quite. Let’s collect us some chalices, hmm?” She kissed him once more, and before she could lose her nerve she stumbled into the camp, crying out when she reached the ring of torchlight. “Help! Ayuadame!” She put on quite a show of womanly vapors, babbling about the evil Blackbeard and how she’d escaped the pirate’s clutches. The leader of the expedition himself came to investigate the fuss, and before the soldiers could get their own ideas of what to do with a woman like Elizabeth she was bundled off to the commander’s own tent, seated with a blanket about her shoulders.

By the appraising look the commander paid her, she felt certain she had the chalices in the bag already. There they sat in plain view upon his table, gleaming in the candlelight. She pointedly avoided looking at them, casting her eyes to the Spaniard before her instead. He was a handsome fellow, dark eyed and caramel skinned. _Just her type_ she thought with amusement. He possessed proud lips, which pursed with sympathy as he looked upon her.

“You poor dear,” he said in surprisingly good if not accented English. “Here. This will steady your nerves.” He poured a healthy measure of brandy, placing the cut crystal glass in front of her. She did not have to feign enjoyment; the Don’s liquor was top shelf.

“What is your name?”

“M—Mary,” she stuttered. _That was a good choice, wasn’t it?_ These Papists had a soft spot for the Virgin if not for anything else. “Mary Witherspoon.”

He gave a small bow, a hand pressed over his heart. “Senorita Witherspoon. I am Don Francisco de Gallo y Espinoza. Rest easy, my lady, you are safe now.”

If she had been anyone else, by the look in his eyes, sharp like that of a hawk’s, she would have pegged him a liar. But she was the _Pirate King,_ she reminded herself. She could take him if she had to, and anyone else who dared get in her way.

“My, that’s quite an impressive _name_ you have,” she simpered, looking up from under her eyelashes calculatingly. She watched as his dark pupils dilated, and Don Francisco neared closer to her like a moth drawn to a flame.

_Men._

He came to sit on the table beside her, subtly looking down the front of her torn dress as he did so.

“Tell me how you came into Blackbeard’s possession,” he said, and she spun a tale of her ship being captured and everyone but her being cut down. He tried to see if she knew anything about the Fountain, without exactly mentioning _the Fountain_ , and she danced around it with the expertise of a woman accustomed to subterfuge. She gleaned quite a bit from Don Francisco, without really giving anything away herself.

“And where is Blackbeard’s camp now?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, paying a baleful glance back to the jungle. “I had the opportunity to slip away, so I ran and ran. For _hours_. I saw the lights of your fires, so I came here, hoping…” Once again she pretended to be overcome with emotion, when really she was stifling a laugh, her narrow shoulders shaking.

_Anytime now, Jack…_

“ _Shhh, there there_ ,” soothed Don Francisco, taking her hand in his. He had rather nice hands, she observed objectively. Long fingers. Trimmed nails. A bit soft for her liking…

An explosion rocked the East side of the camp, and she screamed. “Blackbeard! He’s found me!” she exclaimed, laying it on _thick._

“Stay here!” exclaimed Don Francisco, snatching up his sword and pistol. Men shouted outside, the sound of boots tramping the ground as soldiers ran towards the commotion.

There was another explosion, and she ducked under the table, feigning a sob. “Oh God!”

Francisco dashed out of the tent, barking orders in rapid-fire Castilian. Very calmly Elizabeth stood from under the table, put the chalices in a sack, and went the opposite direction.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sincere thank you for your comments!! They brighten my day, and make writing this SO much more enjoyable!!


	11. Against the Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Sooooo. This is that chapter I had in mind that has decidedly shifted this story from a hard T to a soft M. Kids, this is where you get off. It’s been fun, but please. Brush your teeth, wash behind your ears, and stop by when you turn 18. Adults, fasten your seatbelts, next stop Mild Smutland.

Elizabeth met up with Jack and Barbossa in the woods, and they walked and walked until they could no longer hear the sounds of the Spanish camp. “My men are somewhere up ahead, but I dare say I am tired of stumbling around in the dark. I says we camp here and leave at first light.” Barbossa was loathe to show weakness, but his stump troubled him when he walked on it for too long.

Jack and Elizabeth were so exhausted they brooked no argument. Elizabeth changed out of her dress and back into shirt and breeches, just in case they had to jump up and run for their lives, which was more likely to happen than not. They bedded down in the leaves, hoping mosquitoes, scorpions, and other creepy crawlie beasties of the jungle would not take too much of an interest in them for a few hours of shut-eye.

Soon Barbossa’s snores joined the symphony of night sounds in the jungle. Jack too seemed to settle down into a snooze, his breathing becoming deep and regular beside her. Elizabeth too attempted to fall asleep, but the adrenaline rush of their adventure paired with an uncomfortable chill in the late night kept her awake. She scooted closer to Jack, hoping to stealthily snuggle into his warmth without disturbing him.

Naturally though, Jack was a light sleeper, despite exhaustion. Dark eyes flew open, turning to regard Lizzy with question. “ _I’m cold_ ,” she whispered, and gladly he opened his arms to her in answer, turning on his side to face her. She snuggled into the shelter of his chest, feeling small and ridiculously secure in his arms, despite the threats looming all around. Their legs tangled, and Elizabeth sighed contentedly against the triangle of open skin at his chest, warmth spreading through her that was part shared-body heat, and part something less material. “ _I could lay in your arms forever,_ ” she told him sleepily, and Jack’s heart did a little flip in his chest.

He kissed her forehead in answer. It was _ridiculous_ what sweet words from this woman had the power to do to him. Unable to stop himself while holding her so near, Jack’s fingers gently traced the line of her hair at her temple, the curve of her ear and her long swan’s neck. Elizabeth shivered, thrilled by his touch. More heat bloomed deep in her belly, and she sighed against his neck, planting a kiss upon his Adam’s apple.

“ _Jack…”_ She meant it as a protest, really, but it certainly didn’t come out that way.

A wicked smile curled his lips at hearing her voice taken on such a _velvety_ tone under his tender ministrations.

“ _Lizzy?”_ he answered, his body shaking a little with a silent chuckle. He loved her like this: surrendering and pliant. Who knew it was even possible? It was a victory, surely, but also just… _Good Lord._

His clever hand migrated down her waist, slipping beneath the loose hem of her shirt. _Christ, her skin was smooth._ Elizabeth arched against him as he drew slow patterns upon her spine, torturously inching higher and higher. She could feel that she was not the only one aroused by his touch, a rather distinct hardness now poking at her hip.

“ _What about Barbossa_?”

“ _Dead asleep_ ,” Jack assured her, and the peg-legged pirate snuffled as though in acknowledgement.

Jack’s hand travelled down again, barely grazing the skin of her spine, winning yet another undulating arch against him that made his manhood _throb_ with wanting. His fingertips dipped into the waistband at her backside, and a small strangled sound escaped her as he cupped her bare ass cheek in his large hand, squeezing appreciatively, pulling her against him. There were more silent chuckles at her reaction, and a taunting reminder of “ _Shhh, the mutineer is sleeping_.”

“ _Insufferable man_ ,” she hissed back, though not with terribly much conviction, her hands fisted in his shirt for want of _something_ to keep her grounded amidst this floating joyful feeling.

“ _Am I_?” Jack propped his head on his bent arm, and intent to prove her wrong, Jack’s hand slid around to her front, climbing her ribcage to cup her breast. How _happy_ he was that she hadn’t taken the time to re-apply her bindings. And how _perfect_ was that soft mound of flesh, that fit so well in the palm of his hand. He teased her nipple into a taut point, his smile broadening as she arched and panted as silently as possible. It was like a game in a way, a deliciously naughty little diversion.

When she thought she could stand no more his hand travelled down the taut flesh of her torso, delving into the downy thatch of curls between her legs to find her weeping center. She was _so wet_ that it was Jack’s turn to stifle a groan, a harsh breath releasing into the top of her hair. He could not stop himself from dipping a finger inside her, made dizzy for the tight moist heat of her sex.

She bit her lip to stifle a moan, and reckoned Jack would drive her _mad_ when his fingers began to circle slowly upon that sensitive nub of flesh between her legs. Everything became shrouded by a warm haze, and as it went on she began to care less and less if she made noise, if she woke Barbossa, hell if she brought the whole Spanish army down upon them. Any embarrassment quickly faded into utter abandon in his hands. Sensing her surrender in heightening passion, Jack covered her mouth with his, hoping to stifle any sound and desperate for her lips besides.

Elizabeth’s hands dragged down Jack’s torso, marveling at the wiry muscle beneath her fingers. He was beautiful, _so beautiful,_ and two could play this game. Deft fingers undid the ties of his breeches, freeing his burgeoning manhood into her hands. He was warm a so velvety soft, _straining_ against his own skin as though even that part of him reached for her. Gently she squeezed, earning a low grumble from deep in Jack’s throat. When she squeezed harder and stroked him up and down that grumble turned to a stifled groan. “ _Fuck. Lizzy_ …”

“ _Shhh…_ ” she teased him breathily, smiling at the opportunity to feed him his words. Had she not been so quick to change out of her dress they may have had more options, but as it was Elizabeth was determined that they should both have this sacred pleasure of each other, at least _once._ Because she was not a naïve young miss anymore, blinded by the excitement of her first real adventure. She knew all too well that they could easily both die tomorrow, or in an hour, or in the next five minutes…

With questing fingers she explored the lines of his taut cock, the ridge of the hood and the pulsing vein upon the underside. A powerful urge gripped her to put it in her mouth, curios how he would feel on her lips and tongue, hungry to see him as lost to pleasure as she felt with his clever fingers between her legs. _Next time_ , she told herself. There _would_ be a next time. She was _determined_ to make that so.

“ _I would give a King’s ransom to be inside you, love_ ,” Jack whispered in her ear, and she squeezed him with the sultry thought, winning another low curse that made her chortle quietly. Determined to make her pay for _that,_ Jack touched her with a bit more pressure and determination, and she was rendered putty in his hands once more. In tandem they moved together, their pleasure heightened ten-fold in the act of sharing it. Only when Lizzy suddenly arched _violently_ against him, her mouth agape in a silent scream, did he allow himself to let go too. Blinding pleasure washed over him as he came into the palm of her hand, and he smiled as he felt her body pulse against his fingers.

Racked by aftershocks and smiling like idiots, they looked to each other from inches away. “ _You are beautiful_ ,” Jack mouthed, winning an eye roll and a satisfied smile from his lady. Her grin widened even further when he produced a handkerchief from somewhere in his effects, cleaning her hand of his creamy white seed.

“ _I always knew you were a gentleman deep down_ ,” she murmured against the skin of his throat, snuggling against him once more. It was Jack’s turn to roll his eyes, though he too smiled contentedly, pulling her closer.

The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was laughing softly into his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N II: You might find it hard to believe it’s possible to catch a chill in the jungle, but as a veteran of tropical rainforest trekking/camping I can indeed tell you it sometimes gets surprisingly chilly at night. Heh. Thank you for reading, and as always, your comments make my day! :)


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